Rehabilitation
by babyemery125
Summary: "Then both their hands connected with red and silver, and their bodies mixed into a fusion of colors and melding physics as they transported to a new destination far from the place where it mattered that he was a Slytherin and she was a Gryffindor." A program is put into place by the Ministry that pairs up Muggle-borns and Ex-Death Eaters to stimulate rehabilitation. Draco&Hermione
1. The Ministry

**Thanks for clicking! Hope you enjoy chapter one!**

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters portrayed in this story. That would be J.K. Rowling (and if she is reading this right now in order to sue me, I don't care because that means fucking J.K. Rowling read my story, the brilliant genius writer that she is).**_

 **Author's note at the end!**

* * *

"This, Mr. Malfoy, we assure you, is your best option," the man said, his nose scrunching up as he looked down at Draco over-top his spectacles. His eyes were the color of the mud pies Draco used to make in the backyard when his parents weren't home.

"As if I have a choice at all," Draco muttered, his arms clenching the sides of the chair he sat in in the middle of the room, the various judges positioned all around him in varying locations and heights. He fought the urge to tighten his tie, striped with green and silver. Instead, he focused on the man front and center with the muddy eyes.

"You could always serve a term in Azkaban alongside your _father_ and all the other known Death Eaters. However, your actions leading up to and after the final Battle of Hogwarts have shown us that you would, perhaps, be much more useful _outside_ of a cell." That was true, but it didn't make the idea any less stupid. In what world would this work? And with _her_? He had it worst out of everyone, he was sure. This was, quite possibly, his worst nightmare. And all because of who his father was. All his friends were paired with strangers, never someone who personally hated them. As much a nightmare as it may be, though, Azkaban would be worse.

Draco closed his eyes, his head forward. His hands loosened their grip on the arms of his seat and folded in his lap. When he looked up at the judge on the high stands, his eyes were ice.

"Where do I sign?"

* * *

Hermione walked down the hallway, her heels clicking against the tile with every step. It reflected the fluorescent light into her eyes, although there were no light sources to be seen. Charmed, no doubt. She smoothed her skirt as a cover to wipe off her hands, then straightened her jacket. How long had it been since she last wore tights? _Not since Sunday school with her parents, back before Hogwarts_ , she thought.

Her body had changed immensely from the tiny third-grader who used to squeeze into the terrible panty-hose, spewing complaints and purposefully tearing holes in them. They were just as much of a bother now, though. Her legs grew goosebumps beneath the silky sheen, agreeing with her. She wasn't much for second skins.

A man stood in front of a door, checking his watch, before he caught her eye. A small smile splayed across his face.

"Miss Granger. So thankful you've come today." The man held out his hand to her and Hermione had to hold back the urge to wipe her hands again before she shook it.

"I don't think I had much of a choice. When the Ministry of Magic himself sends an order for your appearance at a special, secret meeting, you sort of have to come," she said, and she masked the crack in her voice with a laugh. The man laughed along with her.

"I suppose so." He turned toward the door and opened it for her. "Come right in."

Hermione found herself in a small, square room. A mahogany desk stood front and center before a huge picture window that led out to a clearing filled with an array of multicolored flowers, obviously charmed; they were hundreds of feet underground.

A man sporting a handlebar mustache and eyes that reminded her of freshly brewed coffee sat at the desk and appraised her with a grin. He stood from his desk and offered her his hand and, this time, she didn't feel the need to wipe sweat off of them. The room was colored in warm tones, with vases of flowers and piles of books scattered throughout. The wrinkles around his eyes reminded her of the ones her own father had sprouted in recent years, and his lack of a suit jacket and tie (although he did still wear a button up) gave him an air of relaxation. Stepping into the room was like stepping into her own home.

"I'm Garrett Casey, most recently appointed Minister of Magic, as I'm sure you're aware," Hermione nodded, and opened her mouth to speak. "No introductions needed, Miss Granger. I'm well aware who you are. It's truly an honor to finally make your acquaintance. The brains of the dynamic duo, Gryffindor's fierce lioness; you are quite the celebrity nowadays." He took her small hand, unpolished and a bit dry, between his two hulking, monstrous appendages. A smile spread across Hermione's face to match his.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir!" He dropped his hand and gestured for her to sit in one of the open seats in front of his desk before nodding to the first man who'd let Hermione in. He nodded back and left the room.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Granger, I assure you. I have been excited all day to finally meet the savior of the Wizarding World!" His voice projected in the small room and echoed across the walls, sounding like he was on all sides of her.

"Please, sir, it's really nothing. It was barely me at all, really. Harry did the bulk of the work. I was just there for moral support and to throw the occasional hex," Hermione said with a chuckle, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.

"Nonsense! You were the true leader of those boys. Without you, they'd have been lost, the lot of them! You saved every wizard and witch in the world from a rather dark fate, Miss Granger. That's something to be proud of." He flashed a smile, tilting his head to the side. Her chest warmed and she could feel a blush spread across her cheek.

"Well, thank you." A smile graced her lips, similar to the one Casey wore. "Now, I'm sure you didn't call me all the way down here to flatter me! What did you want to speak to me about?" Casey nodded and brought his hands out in front of him, folding them together on his desk. Professionalism replaced jubilance in his eyes, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a degree or two.

"Yes. I was hoping to delay the real manner of this meeting as long as possible. I've been in and out of these meetings all day and, I have to say, I'm a bit exhausted." He let off a yawn and rubbed at his eyes before returning his hands to their folded position in front of him.

"As I'm sure you already know," he continued, "trials of known Death Eaters and Death Eater sympathizers have been going on since the final Battle of Hogwarts last year." Hermione nodded. "Recently, one of our younger workers here at the Ministry had a brilliant idea for, not just punishment for crimes of war on a slightly more lowly level, but also for rehabilitation of the toxic state of mind that led to these past two Wizarding Wars in the first place." Ah! So that was why they'd called her in. A grin spread her lips wide, and she sat up straight in her seat.

"Yes! That's what I've been saying would be the best approach. I've been trying to set up a meeting with someone here at the Ministry for quite a while, actually, but all my appointments kept getting pushed back. Understandably so, I know. You've all got enough on your hands without me breathing down your backs. Which is why I was so excited when I got your summons!"

"Well-" Casey started, but Hermione cut him off, not even noticing he had begun to speak.

"I certainly hadn't expected to be spoken to by the Minister of Magic himself, but I'm glad to get the chance. You see, we can't just let these offenders back into the world with all their prejudices still in tact to keep on breeding and raising more children to be just as prejudiced! We should set up some kind of mandatory class, regardless of other punishments, for all offenders. I have a bunch of estimates on prices and projections on time to construct such establishments, with suggestions of teachers, and-"

"Miss Granger!" Casey interrupted. The wrinkles around his eyes were deep from his smile, and his eyes filled with mirth. He let out a laugh. "I greatly appreciate your enthusiasm, but, you see, we've already come to these same conclusions."

"Oh," Hermione said, and the spark disappeared from her eyes. "Why am I here, then?"

"We have already decided that the best path in reconstruction of society is to go at the root of these poisonous viewpoints and cut them off at the source in the form of rehabilitation rather than incarceration. We wish to lose as few productive members of society as possible in the wake of this tragedy."

"Exactly!" Hermione smiled.

"Our plan is slightly different, however. Unfortunately, with the cost of war reparations, the Ministry is low on funds. We find ourselves forced to look to already existing resources to rehabilitate war criminals. More specifically, we are looking to the Muggle-born witches and wizards amongst us.

"We want to assign a Muggle-born witch or wizard to a known prejudiced pureblood, who is decidedly non-violent might I add, and urge them to live amongst the Muggles. They will live together for two months, then be evaluated for any progress. If none has occurred, it will stretch out to another month with another evaluation at the end, and then so on as needed." Casey leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he watched her.

"Hm," Hermione said. She paused a moment. Her fingers tapped on her knee to some unheard beat. "Sounds effective. _If_ you can find witches and wizards willing to have a person who hates them live in their home for an extended period of time." She forced a laugh out of her mouth. Her knee bounced up and down in time to the sporadic tapping of her fingers, and her eyes searched the room for anything to look at besides the bitter, coffee eyes of the Minister.

"Luckily, we haven't had much trouble in that area. Everyone seems just as eager to reduce bigotry as we are." Hermione could feel the sweat returning to her hands as heat spread up her neck. She fumbled with her legs, suddenly unable to find a comfortable resting position.

"I am glad you have come to such a concise plan, Minister, and that you thought to relay it to me as I had been inquiring for quite some time. I'm truly glad to know!" She flashed her teeth, sitting up in her chair, preparing to stand. "But if that's all you need from me, I really should be-"

"Please, Miss Granger, reclaim your seat." Casey said, gesturing at the chair she was half out of. She sighed before she slumped back into her chair, and her face fell.

"You know we wouldn't be asking such a thing of you if we didn't think it was necessary."

"I just-" She sighed again. Her hands rubbed at her eyes. Thank god she had decided against makeup today. "Don't you think I've done enough for the Wizarding World already?" She looked up from her hands and looked him straight in his eyes. She could see the bags beneath his irises, the white pallor of his complexion. It was all familiar. They were details she saw in her own face every time she looked in the mirror. Everyone was tired nowadays.

"You have, Miss Granger. We all know it. And you should know I feel terrible for asking such a thing of you in the first place, but these are desperate times. And, like it or not, you will always play a key role in wizarding politics. You will always be under constant scrutiny; always a role model. That is why I need you and why you know you need to do this." Assumptuous words for someone she'd just met. _But he's right_ , her mind chided her. The world would always be watching the best friend of the Boy Who Lived. At least she wasn't actually him; at least there was that.

"You know I'll say yes. I just don't want to. I have to agree, especially when it's the very sort of thing that I've been asking for." Hermione sighed, and her eyes fell to look at the floor. Her shoulders raised, though, and she snapped her gaze back to his. "I'm not doing anything happily. Just so you know." These words elicited a chuckle from him, but his eyes were still cold. There was more.

"There is just one final thing I needed to relay to you before you discuss details with Paul." Hermione's stomach dropped. She had to fight the urge to bolt out of the room before he could say whatever it was that he was going to say.

"Because you _will_ be in the public eye, we at the Ministry believe it is imperative we find the best candidate for you as possible." Hermione nodded. His voice was muffled and her skin prickled, like she was underwater. Who was the one person the Minister could be talking about? The one who'd make the biggest splash; the best example for all the Wizarding World to be paired with Gryffindor's Princess?

"This candidate would be Draco Malfoy," Casey said. _Well, shit._

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed Chapter One of this story! I'm sort of a new writer on this site, but that is no excuse to "go easy on me" as so many "new" writers wish. I am _not_ a new writer. Just because this is one of the first stories I've written for this site, it doesn't mean it is even close to one of the first stories I've _ever_ written. So, please, be mean and harsh! Tell me what I did wrong, what I did right, what you liked, what you didn't! Any and all reviews are welcome, good or bad. It means, after all, you've read and had an emotional reaction strong enough to constitute a few minutes of your time and a short bout of furious keyboard pounding. **

**About the story, this is an idea that's been bouncing around my head for quite a while. With so many stories on these two Hogwarts Hornballs (Oh my god that's the best phrase ever, I am officially trademarking that phrase as the new ship name for Draco and Hermione) floating around the internet, it's hard to come up with a unique idea. I've tried writing these two before, but it has always turned into a terrible cliched monstrosity full of overused Dramione tropes. God. Let's forget those ever happened. Anyway, this is M for future chapters (now there's one thing I've never written! SEX. We'll see how that goes). As with any story I post here, the more reviews I get (which prove to me that there are readers at all), the faster I will update. Thanks everyone! See you in a week :) Stay classy,**

 **-babyemery**


	2. Portkeys

**Thanks for clicking! Here's Chapter Two, guys! Sorry about the wait, real quick, but details on that with the author's note at the end.**

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters portrayed in this story. That would be J.K. Rowling (and if she is reading this right now in order to sue me, I don't care because that means fucking J.K. Rowling read my story, the brilliant genius writer that she is).**_

* * *

Hermione pulled her hair up into a bun, unable to wrap the elastic around more than once since her curls were so thick. This was not a task for which she wanted to have to worry about her hair. All the details had been worked out with various Ministry representatives, the destination had been readied, and papers been signed. All that was left was to pick up and transfer the cargo.

For the sake of smooth sailing, all the arrangements were made separately. Hermione talked with the mediator and drew up contracts, which were then relayed to Malfoy at a separate time and place.

All in all, the whole situation had been pretty tolerable thus far.

Today they were going to bring Malfoy in and the two of them were shipping off to stay in her grandmother's house in America. Her stomach writhed just thinking about it. At least grandmama wouldn't be there. She moved to Florida in the winter to live in an old person's community, which left her house in upstate New York completely empty all season long. It would be perfect.

A knock echoed in the Minister's office, and her head snapped around to glare at the door. _What have I gotten myself into?_ She thought.

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy. Are you ready?"

No. No, he certainly was not.

"Yes."

"Your bags will be transported to your destination later today." The guy's eyes were glued to his clipboard of papers. Every few seconds he would glance over at Draco, and if he got too close the guy would flinch away or shrug his shoulder. "You will be taking a portkey to a designated location, then you will be driving the remaining distance."

"Why don't we just apparate straight there?"

"It has been warded against apparition."

Ah, of course. He should have known.

They continued down the hall for another five minutes, turning around hundreds of corners and descending thousands of staircases until the man finally stopped in front of a door.

"Casey" the name tag said. _Not this guy again_ , Draco thought. He'd stopped playing with mud when he was five. The guy knocked on the door before walking in.

Instead of mud, though, his eyes connected with chocolate. He hadn't expected to see her just yet. With all the suspense they'd built up by delaying them actually seeing each other, he'd assumed there would be some kind of big reveal. Maybe a curtain sliding to the side for a spinning pedestal on which he was doing the thinking man. Or, even better, a silver platter covered in one of those dome things, under which he was laying, an apple in his mouth.

She was sitting with one leg crossed over the other, her hair tied up into a loose, messy bun. She wore a white blouse overtop straight-legged, grey suit pants, her robes open and draping over her shoulders. She stood when they walked in.

"Ms. Granger, Draco Malfoy." The man gestured from her to him. "Mr. Mal-"

"You don't need to introduce us, Paul. We know each other." Granger stared Draco straight in the eye. He felt like he'd just apparated to his kitchen ten years earlier, staring into the big vat of melted chocolate on Christmas Eve, waiting for it to be done so he could help the house elves pour it out into various molds.

She studied him for what seemed like forever, but was probably more like a couple minutes, before holding her hand out to him. His eyes dropped to it, there between them. His arm weighed a thousand pounds suddenly. A handshake? Since when did they shake hands? Not that they'd ever been in the sort of situation in which shaking hands would be appropriate.

Oh, right, you just punched me in the face. Put 'er there, Granger. Yep, just tried to hex you into oblivion, let's shake on it.

But there her hand was anyway. In this situation, it made sense, but it still seemed so out of place. The history between them was so stormy that the idea of them shaking hands sounded more like two strangers getting married than just _shaking hands_.

However, as strange as it seemed to him, it would send the completely wrong message if he refused, so he forced his hand into hers and shook.

Their eyes met again, and this time her brows were furrowed and her lips pursed. _Confused, Granger?_ Perhaps she expected him to slap her hand away and call her a filthy mudblood.

"Been a while," Granger said.

"Quite." Draco glanced around the room. The theme seemed to be _mahogany_. Had he inadvertently walked into a cabin in the woods? He hated camping.

The kid who'd brought Draco to the deepest depths of the dungeons, to this terribly _quaint_ room, cleared his throat. Draco watched him, whatever his name was. Pat? Is that what Granger called him? Pat gestured to the empty chairs in front of the desk, the one Granger had occupied when they first walked in, and another positioned just beside it. Draco sat in the chair that had not been claimed.

Pat nodded, cleared his throat again while wiping sweat from his forehead (ha! the kid wasn't even involved in the exchange and he was getting nervous), and started toward the door.

"The Minister will be in shortly to facilitate and go over last minute plans."

Draco twisted toward the kid as he was walking out and yelled,

"Thanks, Pat! Send my love to the wife!" Draco chuckled as the door clicked shut. The poor guy was already freaked out, now he'd be terrified for his wife. He glanced off to his side. Granger glared at him, her once chocolate eyes now rolling with volcanic ash.

"What's got _your_ knickers all in a twist?"

Granger released a puff of air from her mouth, her lips fluttering.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. What's with the angry eyes?"

She scoffed, then glowered at him for another minute before saying anything.

"For one thing, his name is _Paul_. If you managed to listen to the world for more than compliments of your looks and reassurances of your abilities, perhaps you would have caught that. And, secondly, do you have to be so utterly, horribly, unbearably _repulsive_?" Throughout her mini tirade, her face became increasingly red, and Draco had been entranced by one vein on her forehead he was certain would burst at any moment.

He pretended to snap himself out of a daze, then smirked at her.

"What was that about my looks and abilities?"

Granger groaned and slammed her palms on the armrests of her chair.

The door opened then, to which they both swung around, and in came the muddy-eyed bastard that assigned him this punishment to start with. Now it was Draco's turn to glare.

"Sorry about that, you two. I had an important meeting that went longer than expected. I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"Just long enough to get her to want to kill me again," Draco said. He gestured to Granger's red face and white knuckles.

"See, it just won't work. Too bad. She hates me." Draco stood to leave, but felt a hand on his arm.

"Not so fast, Malfoy," Granger said. She dug her nails into his skin and he fought the urge to cringe. Instead, he turned to lock eyes with her and peeled her fingers from his arm.

"I'll warn you not to touch me. Ever. Again. Or you might just lose a finger, mudblood." He'd hoped he wouldn't have to use that word. He hated to. But he hated the idea of being locked up in a house in the Muggle world with _her_ much more.

"I'll warn you never to use that word in my presence again. Or you might just lose a lot more than a finger, _Malfoy_." Their eyes were trained on each other, both filled with so much fire the air between them felt hot. Mud-eyes cleared his throat.

"Miss Granger, are you still willing to go along with all this?" Granger broke eye contact and turned toward the Minister.

"Yes, sir. Nothing could sway me."

 _Great_.

"Then it's settled. I just have one last paper for each of you to sign to bind all the requirements and agreements of this situation, and then you're good to go."

 _Dammit_. His one last shot to end this for good, and it was gone.

Mud-eyes pulled a paper from his desk and handed it to Granger first, who read it over, then signed her name. She slid it over to Draco, refusing to look at him, and tossed the pen at him.

The document was short; to the point. It was a list of very well-summarized versions of all the components they'd agreed on previously. And, honestly, it could be worse. Draco read through it to be certain nothing had been changed on him, then picked up the pen.

In that moment he wished to whatever higher power was out there that he didn't believe in - Merlin, God, Zeus, _Buddha_ \- whoever the fuck wanted to listen, he was asking. A meteor, a freak fire, an earthquake, the resurrection of Voldemort himself in that very room; something to keep him from having to sign that paper.

But nothing happened and he signed his name underneath _Hermione Granger_ without a hitch.

When everything had been discussed one last time, Mud-eyes stood and walked to the side on which they sat. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders, which Draco shook off, and gestured for them to go through the door.

They followed him down the hall to another room, this one big and empty like a gymnasium. A seashell, sealed shut, rested on a table in the center of the room . Swirling across its surface was a pattern of silver and red.

"How inconspicuous," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Not where we're going." Hermione looked him up and down.

"Enjoying the view, Granger?"

She scowled at him.

"You won't blend in with your robes on. Take them off."

Draco feigned shock, his arms covering his mouth in a gasp.

"Granger!" He said. "How indecent!"

She raised her eyebrows at him. Her face hardened into stone and the room went cold, a fair warning to any intelligent soul to stop whatever it was they were saying and change the damn subject, but Draco continued.

"As flattered as I am, Granger, you do, unfortunately, disgust me. Maybe look to the _Weasel_ next time you have an itch that needs scratching. He seems more your type; pathetic, ugly, impuissant, naive. Like two peas in a pod, really."

Granger's burning face, red and blotchy, thawed her features. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. She took a step closer, her arm raised, and he was worried she was about to hit him again. _Do it,_ he thought.

When she was just a step from him, her hand inches from his cheek, she froze. Her eyes still burned, and her face still resembled an over-ripe tomato, but her body relaxed and her fingers fell to her sides rather than his face.

"Just take off the damn robes, Malfoy." She swung away from him and strutted to the center of the room to that seashell. Draco sighed, then started after her, dropping his robes to the floor halfway there. He didn't have much of a choice. So long as she still agreed to go through with this, he was stuck.

He wore a suit underneath, lucky for them. Some days he went with old traditions and donned only his knickers below those billowy robes. Who said girls were the only ones who were allowed to feel the breeze?

He stood adjacent to Granger, her face a mask of indifference as she stared down that blasted seashell. This was sure to be fun.

Mud-eyes strolled over after them and stood a few paces back.

"Hermione, you have my call number. Anyday, anytime, you know that," he said, and Granger nodded.

"And Mr. Malfoy, you know the consequences if you break any of the stipulations in your contract. No touching without permission, no leaving the house without a chaperone, et cetera et cetera. Any rules that Ms. Granger administers must be followed as well. Failure to comply is a lifetime sentence in Azkaban."

"Yes, I'm aware. You've only explained a thousand times." Draco groaned.

"Once more can't hurt."

"Except my eardrums!"

They both ignored him, looking around the room, trying to remember any other tidbits that needed to be reviewed.

"There isn't anything else, then, I don't think." Mud-eyes smiled at them, like he was sending his two eldest off to Hogwarts.

Granger turned to Draco, her eyes melting his resolve for a moment, and he felt his hand start to move.

"On the count of three," she said. Her hand hovered above the shell, as did his, and she stared into his eyes while she counted.

"3." He noticed there was a swirl of green close to her pupil. "2." Specks of black dotted the iris throughout. "1." The chocolate was lighter toward the center, darker toward the edge, her eyelashes were long and thick, her skin was dewy, her cheeks were high, her jaw sharp, her teeth buck, her lips thin, her nose crooked, her neck long, her hair frizzy, her collarbone defined, her shoulders round, her arms strong, her body beautiful.

All these observations were made in those three seconds, in addition to a few others that Draco deemed unimportant to analyze as of that moment.

For those three seconds Draco Malfoy had been lost in Hermione Granger's eyes. Then both their hands connected with red and silver, and they mixed into a fusion of colors and melding physics as they transported to a new destination far from the place where it mattered that he was a Slytherin and she was a Gryffindor.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I'm so very sorry about how long it took me to get this chapter to you. I know you've heard it all before, but this is a very busy month. Finals next week so even though I just had a few days of break, it was all spent studying. I haven't even had time to _read_ stories let alone write them. Good news, though! Once finals are over, I will have LOADS of time to write and will probably be able to do _two_ chapters a week so I promise it'll be worth it if you just stick around and endure no updates for a little while.**

 **So this chapter is not my favorite. It wasn't all that much fun to read, and sort of dragged a little so it ended up being a little short because I just didn't like writing it. It's more of a transition, as most second chapters tend to be in fanfiction stories and just stories in general.**

 **I don't know if anyone was thinking this, but I'll explain anyway. Obviously this story isn't following the books to a tee. It disregards the epilogue, but all occurrences written in the pages of J.K. Rowlings stories leading up to that apply to this story as well. At least, most of them. It's been a little while since I last read the series (two years?) so I'm a bit rusty when it comes to the book world, so the movie canon may cross over a little into my story's canon. Also, in this story, Draco's dad is in Azkaban (where, I think, he should have been put in the actual books! Come on, man; he was an asshole and a liar and a killer. Why the fuck wasn't he in jail?). These are probably things I should have discussed in Ch. 1 but I forgot, so here they are.**

 **Have any questions, please review! I'm happy to clarify. I assure you, I have thought this story out in depth so anything you may think is a discrepancy may actually be just a part of the story; something that I put there purposefully. Let me know what you're thinking so far (I see you out there reading, favoriting, following; let me know you're there because I love you already). And, as always, stay classy ;)**

 **-babyemery**


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